


A Single Chance

by Frostedonut6297



Category: Ouran High School Host Club - All Media Types
Genre: Angst and Feels, Canon - Manga, Canon Compliant, Complete, Everyone Needs A Hug, Gen, Hopeful Ending, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, My First Work in This Fandom, Not Beta Read, POV Third Person, Sibling Bonding, Sibling Rivalry, as a lot of this is Chika's thoughts, hope you enjoy!, just to let you know, light fluff, pretty sure anyway, so I'll probably edit in the morning, there's a lot of mentioned characters here, though I have written other drafts just haven't posted them
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-07
Updated: 2020-12-07
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:07:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27932797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Frostedonut6297/pseuds/Frostedonut6297
Summary: A recurring dream has Yasuchika reflecting on the events that lead to him and Mitsukuni's separation, making him wonder if they could ever have what they used to again.
Relationships: Haninozuka Mitsukuni & Morinozuka Takashi (mentioned), Haninozuka Yasuchika & Morinozuka Satoshi (mentioned), Mitsukuni Haninozuka & Yasuchika Haninozuka
Comments: 6
Kudos: 8





	A Single Chance

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! If you read the tags, you know this is my first work in the Ouran fandom, though I have written several other drafts I've never published. It's not beta read as I wrote this at 2 in the morning, so I'll probably go through it a little later. Anyway, hope you enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: All people, places, and events are completely fictional and belong to Bisco Hatori.

_“Do you think there’s a chance we could ever have what we used to again?”_

* * *

Yasuchika flinched awake as the earliest rays of sunlight broke through his curtains, nearly blinding him with their brightness. He instinctively held up an arm to block them out before rapidly blinking, his alarm clock telling him it was 6:00 am on a Saturday morning. Stifling a groan, he reached for his glasses, the world instantly becoming blurrier as he put them on, though he was used to the effect.

The younger Haninozuka sat up in bed before almost immediately collapsing back into it, his head pounding ferociously like it had just been smacked several times in a row by Satoshi’s kendo stick, though even that didn’t even come close to describing how much it hurt. Sucking it up, he rose slowly, placing the spectacles back onto the stand. He’d have a hard enough time navigating the room normally; it would be foolish to apply any unnecessary handicaps.

Stumbling into the bathroom and still cursing under his breath from nearly tripping upon entrance, he haphazardly sorted through the medicine cabinet, his hand finally grasping the ibuprofen bottle. Opening the childproof cap with thankfully little difficulty, he shook out two tablets and popped them in his mouth, swallowing them whole. Unlike his older brother, Yasuchika was able to down the medicine without the use of extra liquid.

Speaking of, where was Mitsukuni?

 _“Probably still sleeping.”_ He figured. It was early morning on a weekend, and his brother almost always slept in as late as possible, hating to leave the comfort of his bed earlier than he had to unless absolutely necessary.

He rolled his eyes, the migraine having become dulled enough to put him back into a semi-normal state. Typical Mitsukuni, overindulging on what he didn’t need, and becoming ten times more infuriating in the process.

He pulled himself off the counter he had been using to steady his balance and stared into the mirror, crystal-clear from the daily cleaning process. Yasuchika usually avoided mirrors as much as possible, but today he forced himself to look straight at it, taking in everything he saw.

Blonde hair with a slight copper tinge, not like Suoh’s light brown with the prominent bright highlights that usually caused him to be mistaken as a blond, but rather a golden sheen that was often associated with the Haninozuka lineage. It was slightly messy from sleeping, long strands falling into his face, the locks curling at the ends. A healthy tan complexion graced his skin, despite the amount of time he spent indoors. Chocolate brown eyes stared back at him.

Anyone else would’ve thought that this was a perfectly normal description of a 14-year-old boy. However, all Yasuchika could see was _him_.

The same round face with the pointed chin. The slightly perked up nose. The shorter-than-average height. The hair, the eyes, the skin. They were all _his._

And he absolutely hated it.

He had never understood how the Hitachiin twins could stand it. Looking similar to Mitsukuni was enough torture, but to be mistaken as him on a daily basis? It would be enough to drive him insane. Of course, it probably helped that Hikaru and Kaoru actually liked each other to the point of co-dependence, whereas Yasuchika could barely stand his brother.

However, a small place in the back of his mind reminded him that there was a time when he would’ve loved being compared to Mitsukuni. It was an area he always kept blocked off, dismissing it as long-forgotten childhood fantasies. But sometimes, on days like these, when his mental stability weakened and his head wasn’t completely right and he had _that dream_ again, he didn’t have the strength to keep it from leaking through.

Of times when they weren’t at odds. When Mitsukuni kept his balance in check, when he himself was less uptight and more carefree, not having the sole responsibility of upholding the family legacy on his shoulders. When they would laugh and play, dueling against each other in a game of pirates with the Morinozuka’s at their side. Him and Satoshi almost always lost, but it never mattered: at the end of the day, it was just for fun, right?

And then Mitsukuni entered middle school. Suddenly he had less time for Yasuchika, keeping up on studies and karate club, both of which he excelled at. He did sometimes feel lonely, but he entertained himself by watching the other kids and practicing even harder to be able to impress his older brother.

“Chika, don’t you think you’re training a bit too much?” Satoshi had asked him one day. “I mean, we don’t even have to think about that for another couple years. You can take a break, y’know?”

Back then, Chika hadn’t listened to Satoshi, which was usual for him. He had pitied his cousin, as Takashi had even less time for his brother than Mitsukuni had for him, due to the Morinozuka’s loyalty to the Haninozuka’s being a key part of their relationship. He sometimes wonders if that’s the reason Satoshi can be so hard on him now, other than their personality differences, several of which tie back into their respective sibling relationships. Satoshi still held Takashi on a pedestal that Mitsukuni had broken the day he decided to accept Suoh’s offer.

He still remembers that night. When he had come into Mitsukuni’s room to find all of the stuffed animals he had previously stored away brought out in full display, his brother in the middle eating a large piece of strawberry shortcake. When Mitsukuni had told him he had found true strength among all of this, Chika had at first thought he had had a mental break. After listening to his story, he remembers laughing, thinking it was all an elaborate joke. Remembers Mitsukuni staring him straight in the eyes, deadly serious. The dawning feeling of dread he had as he slowly realized that his brother truly believed what this Suoh kid had told him, that true strength was nothing more than having your heart’s desire without discipline, and that anyone who thought otherwise was a coward, afraid of their own feelings.

The rest of that evening is a blur, though he can still recall a few things from it. The screaming. The tears. Slamming the sliding door as Mitsukuni got one last word in. Satoshi running after him while Takashi stayed with his brother, both of them having been waiting outside, afraid and unsure of what to do as their fight had unfolded.

He remembers ordering the glasses the next morning, despite the fact that they were prescription and he had perfect vision. Of a silent breakfast, both of them refusing to even look at each other. Of the next week, when Mitsukuni had quietly entered his room, his eyes cast downward as he had apologized for his actions that day, but said that he would continue on his own path, joining this “Host Club” (although he would later learn that this Suoh kid had quite a white-washed version of what that was), along with Takashi and a prestigious line-up that fell on deaf ears. He would only later wonder why an Ootori would join such a time-wasting activity. Right then, all he could hear was his entire childhood being crushed under the weight of one conversation that had changed his brother for good.

He wanted to blame Suoh. He really did, and he had, for that first year. He had blamed the rest of the club too, especially once he had met them during that day he had come in to bring Mitsukuni a message. But he found he couldn’t blame them for long either. 

The third Ootori son had wanted a chance to stand out among his brothers, and becoming co-creator of one of the most successful clubs at Ouran Academy was a sure way to be able to get his father’s attention. The Hitachiin twins had apparently put up quite a fight, but Suoh’s telling them apart had apparently been enough of a crack in their sheltered world for them to become interested enough to check it out, becoming members by the end of April. Suoh himself was looking for a way to make women happy in honor of his mother, who was still in France with contact forbidden between the two as part of an agreement by his father's side of the family. An illegitimate heir, this was the test to see if he would prove himself worthy of inheriting the Suoh company one day, and what better way to do that than to create a brand-new club under his father’s careful watch while still maintaining some of the top grades and popularity in the school?

Even the commoner couldn’t be held a fault. Mitsukuni was long gone by the time they arrived, and they were only there due to a quite expensive debt they were forced to pay off. This would’ve left Takashi, and Yasuchika had tried to pin the blame on him, but there was simply no way to do it. He was just doing as he was supposed to: watching over Mitsukuni, just as Satoshi did to him.

No, in the end, Yasuchika was forced to accept that it was Mitsukuni’s decision, and Mitsukuni’s decision alone that was the deciding factor in their separation. It hurt, it honestly did, because the last shreds of his past relationship with his brother had disappeared that day, painted over by a canvas of shattered dreams.

Pulling his mind out of the daze it had placed itself in, the pain having finally numbed enough to allow him to think straight, he left the bathroom and went about getting ready for the day. Pulling on a simple white t-shirt and black pair of sweatpants, he glanced over at the clock to find that 45 minutes had passed while he had been lost in his thoughts. Grabbing the glasses off the stand, he slid them on, metal frames resting firmly on the bridge of his nose. His brain fully cleared of any of its previous thoughts, he headed down the stairs toward the kitchen, intent on grabbing something quick to eat before heading over to the dojo to begin training.

What he didn’t expect to see was Mitsukuni at the stove, a small stool accompanying him to accommodate for his short stature, eyes squinted in concentration as he carefully cooked what he believed was salmon.

Yasuchika stood in the doorway awkwardly, unsure whether to leave or grab a banana while completely ignoring his brother’s presence. Instead, he stood there, watching Mitsukuni carefully grill the fish on both sides before switching it over to the cutting board. Hopping off the stool to grab a knife from the silverware drawer behind him, the elder Haninozuka finally noticed his younger brother’s presence.

Feeling heat rush to his cheeks (another thing he shared with the person in front of him: the ability to easily blush), he started to slide back out the door before Mitsukuni called out to him.

“Chika-chan, wait.”

Why he still called him that when the two hadn’t shared a friendly relationship in over three years was beyond him. Maybe he was too used to the term to bother changing it now. Maybe he just called everyone by chan, stranger or not. Whatever the reason, Yasuchika stopped to look back at him.

“It’s Yakizakana with Miso Soup. Mom’s recipe.” He said.

It was a simple statement, just two short sentences, yet there was still so much emotion elicited from it that Yasuchika found himself unable to breathe for a second.

While it was true he was never the most insightful of the family, even he could pick up on what was said there. The _“I’m sorry you don’t feel comfortable enough to stay with me.”_ The _“This was someone we both loved, and she would’ve wanted us to do this together.”_ The _“Please don’t shut me out again.”_

Most importantly though, was the clear question it conveyed. 

_“Will you join me?”_

* * *

Yasuchika wasn’t sure what it was on days like these. Maybe it was his own worn-down mental state, finally taking a break after having been constantly on guard for days on end. Maybe it was Mitsukuni’s calm attitude in comparison to the usual high-strung one that made it so hard for Yasuchika to approach him. Maybe it was the way the world seemed to slow down, leaving just enough room for small moments like these.

Whatever it was, Yasuchika thought as he cut vegetables next to his brother boiling white rice, the two working in a harmony rarely seen, it was certainly something that was always surprising to say the very least.

And yet, he had to wonder, was that such a bad thing? People often said that the best things in life were unexpected, and right now, contently listening to the bubbling of the water and the consistent chop of the knife against the peppers, he couldn’t exactly disagree.

It was moments like these where he would think back on Mitsukuni’s final words during that night where their bond was seemingly broken forever.

_“Do you think there’s a chance we could ever have what we used to again?”_

And he would think that maybe, just maybe, there was a chance.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed! 
> 
> Constructive criticism is always welcome! 
> 
> Have a nice day!


End file.
